Black and White, The Penguin's Maid
by The Cowgirl Bookworm
Summary: Galina was just looking to get out of the awful apartment she and her friend had been living in. They apply and are accepted as new maids at a manor house owned by one Oswald Cobblepot. How will they deal with having to care for one of Gotham's Rouges?
1. Chapter 1

The truck pulled up to the side of the building, black type and orange paint clashing with the dingy look of the thing. Two girls stood on the curb, boxes piled around them. The job couldn't have come at a better time, they were a month behind on their rent and they both wanted to get out of temp work. They'd sold most of the furniture, that paid the rent and got them some more space in their shitty one bedroom apartment. A man stepped out of the truck, dressed in a black suit. He looked at the boxes, then to the girls.

"Galina Kirilova?" He asked, consulting the paper he pulled out of his breast pocket.

One of them stepped forward, tall, blonde, but looking like someone had dressed a two-by-four in faded clothes. Her brown eyes flicked up to his. "Yes."

"That means you must be Carissa Ramos?" He turned to the other girl. Short, dark haired, and as well endowed as her friend wasn't. The driver, Travis, folded up the sheet. He quickly went to the boxes, and with the three of them the truck was loaded quickly. Galina and Carissa loaded up, crammed onto the bench seat with Travis. The truck set off, and Galina suppressed a shiver of nerves that threatened her.

This whole thing was on Carissa truthfully. She'd been the one who'd found the classified ad for servants. They'd sent their application off to some address out in the Palisades, then tried their best to figure out who owned the place. Which has turned up squat. So they were headed into this knowing only that the job included room and board, they received one day off a week, and that their duties would extend to cleaning the manor and repairing any clothes that had been ripped. Travis remained quiet, turning up the radio instead of talking.

The truck soon left Gotham proper behind, back into an open area that seemed to stretch for miles. The Palisades, known to house the richest of the rich in Gotham. Mansions and manors that served as respites from townhouses and penthouses. Home to parties where it wasn't uncommon to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on caviar alone. Galina would rather be slaving away for these people than waiting tables in some random diner that needed an extra hand.

"Oh shit." Carissa gasped as the truck pulled up to a set of gates, which opened when Travis pressed something in his pocket. Proudly proclaimed in wrought iron with gilded tips was the name Cobblepot.

Great, they'd just signed up to work for a Rouge.

The house seemed vaguely Rougeless though, the only person out to meet them a well dressed gray haired man. He watched as Galina and Carissa stepped out, standing in front of them. Galina stretched out a hand, smiling. "Mr. Bryant?"

"Curtsy." He replied, gesturing for them to perform. She had a feeling that their efforts were less than what was expected, mainly because they enlisted a brief intake of breath and brief clenching of his eyes."You must do a proper one by the end of the week. Sir will expect the new staff to be presented. Travis will show you to the rooms you have been assigned." With that Travis and the girls began carrying the boxes up the back set of stairs. The rooms were in the attic, each a small bedroom connected to an even smaller bathroom that seemed to groan at having to hold a shower, toilet, and mirror. A counter held the sink, a hot plate plugged into the wall to serve as an oven. A few cabinets were on the wall, a single window letting in the daylight. A wardrobe, upon further examination, held what was to be her uniform. A white button down shirt and a calf length black skirt. There were three iterations of this, a more formal uniform of black dress and white apron beside them

Galina proceeded to unpack, setting up the single bookshelf she had brought. It was quickly stuffed as full as it could go, more books being piled on top. A sewing machine was put in a corner, a battered dress form rolled beside it. Carissa was right across the hall, but Galina felt far away. Two years of sharing a space with a person made it hard to be alone.

There wasn't much time to consider her feelings though, for Travis quickly popped back up and told them to dress in their uniforms and report downstairs. One with the shirt, skirt, black stockings and sensibly heeled black shoes. Blonde hair was braided back, brushing between her shoulder blades. Carissa appeared, her brown hair brushed back and they made their way downstairs.

Mr. Bryant met them in the entryway. He quickly outlined their duties. For the next week they were to deep clean the entire manor, starting from the east wing and moving to the west. They were to call Mr. Cobblepot, Sir. Not Penguin, not Cobblepot. Sir. Galina would care for his wardrobe, laying out a suit, hat, and tie for him each morning. Carissa was to help Ms. Hunt, the cook. Mr. Bryant would attend to Sir himself, waking him in the morning, taking him tea, helping him dress and any assistance he needed during the day. After the week of deep cleaning the would perform maintenance cleaning, sweeping, dusting, and generally keeping the place clean. Rooms that Sir used everyday would need to be cleaned everyday, the library, his suite of rooms, and the dining room.

What followed was a week of scraping grime out of corners, airing out mattresses, practicing curtsies until her knees felt like they were going to give. The staff quickly made itself known, but there wasn't much of one. Travis was Sir's driver, Mr. Bryant his butler, Ms. Hunt the cook and that was it for the house staff. There was a groundkeeper that rarely stirred from cottage where he lived and a caretaker for the massive aviary that was on the grounds. Slowly though, she could see the manor come back to its former self. It was decorated tastefully, if rather old fashioned. Finally the week ended, the rest of the staff returning to their regular duties.

Everyone stood out at the front of the house though, when Travis drove the classic Lincoln limousine up. He opened the door and an umbrella tip emerged, acting as a walking stick. A top hat followed, revealing a monocled face that glanced at all of them. They all bowed or curtsied, Galina and Carissa finally being deemed serviceable in that aspect. She kept her eyes down, contemplating the face she had glimpsed. His nose wasn't as beaky as the papers liked to make it out to be, nor was he as fat as they reported.

Mainly he just looked tired.

"Bryant, those two?" Sir asked, gesturing with his umbrella toward them.

Bryant appeared at his side in an instant, "Miss Ramos and Miss Kirilova, the new maids we've hired."

They both curtsied.

"Galina, see these up to Sir's wardrobe." Bryant ordered, thrusting an overcoat and the top hat toward her once Sir had stepped inside. She took them, heading for the servant's stairs. The stairs connected to a series of small halls, hidden doors granting access to rooms. She'd quickly memorized the way up to the wardrobe. She brushed the coat, cleaned the hat, and placed them both back into one of the massive wardrobes that occupied the equally massive room. Beyond the actual door was Sir's bedroom, which she could hear was occupied. She quickly moved back into the servant's stairs, closing the door as Bryant came into the wardrobe. She listened, a muffled conversation occurring. There was a thud as the other door closed after they left. Galina moved back in, taking the dirty suit down to the laundry. After a brief dinner she went back up to her room, looking across the hall to Carissa's room.

She was so lucky, she didn't have to deal with a Rouge. All Carissa had to do was cut some carrots and season some soup. With a snort she shut her door, deciding that her bed looked all the more inviting for what she had dealt with that day.


	2. Chapter 2

An unexpected cold snap hit the next morning. Well, it was Gotham so it was not that uncommon to go to sleep in balmy weather and wake up freezing. The cold required Galina and Carissa to get up early, running to the kitchen to help get the heater going. Ms. Hunt, thrusting a covered iron pot and yesterday's Gotham Gazette at Galina, quickly ordered her to take some coals and get a fire going in Sir's sitting room. So she stalked up the servant's stairs, coming out from a hidden panel behind a painting. Sir's sitting room was papered with a crimson pattern and decorated like the rest of the house, the only glimpse of modernity in it was the massive flat screen television above the fireplace.

Galina quickly shredded a few pages of the newspaper, piling some kindling and logs on it from the basket nearby. In went a coal, and all she had to do was watch it catch. When she looked up though, the door to Sir's bedroom was open a crack. She could see a glimpse of a nose, an eye back in the shadows. She bobbed her head from her spot on the floor. "Sorry Sir, I didn't mean to wake you."

The door shut.

Apparently super villains were moody this early. She put the fire screen back up so the carpet didn't burn and quickly left. So far, working for the Penguin hadn't actually been that bad. Oh, the work was hard but it wasn't awful. She actually enjoyed the cleaning, the house was looking much less gloomy since they'd taken off most of the grime. Leaving the pot in the hall she quickly set out Sir's wardrobe for the day, figuring that getting her work done early might get her a little down time. The pot was taken back, the coals dumped back into the heater, and Mr. Bryant was just leaving with Sir's tea.

Carissa was helping Ms. Hunt dish up some oatmeal, which Galina fell on gladly. Breakfast was usually a quick affair, their assignments would come shortly after when Mr. Bryant returned from helping Sir get ready. The china on the tray clattered as he made his way down the stairs, handing it off to Carissa to get washed. He sat down to his own bowl, grabbing an apple from a tray in the center of the table. Once he was finished he turned to them. "Ms. Kirilovna, the Persian rugs in the library need to have the dust beaten out of them. Ms. Ramos will help."

It would have been simpler to vacuum them, but it had become apparent that this house ran on an older set of rules. So Carissa grabbed a couple of carpet beaters that had been hung on the wall and they quickly made their way up. The library occupied a massive room that took up two stories. Floor to ceiling bookcases, first editions in glass covered displays, and an incongruous desktop computer completed the look. Galina had fallen in love with it at first sight, even if she had spent five hours dusting and polishing those shelves. So they let themselves in, bending to pick up one of the rugs. She straightened up, glimpsing a rather aquiline nose. Carissa almost flinched back, managing to hold it.

Galina dropped her eyes. "Pardon us, these rugs are to be cleaned."

Sir gave a huff, but walked through when they stepped back. The rug, followed by several of its cousins, was hung on a fence outside the manor and vigorously swatted with the braided bronze beaters. Carissa started up a conversation while they swung. "Having him in the same house, it doesn't freak you out?"

Galina paused, "He hasn't really shown any signs of taking us hostage, so I'm just content to go with the flow."

"Well, if he starts going all crazy, I'm gone. I mean, you've seen the news right?"

The news was no fan of Sir. They ridiculed him after every heist, asking how a villain could do so much even though he's so fat. Just your usual slow news day garbage. Galina swung the beater like a tennis star, grunting when it hit. "At least I have a bed here, that futon had that big bar going down the middle."

"Don't get mad at me just because I'm the only one who actually bought a mattress."

* * *

><p>Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, now there was a name. His mother, a fan of Dickens, was quite pleased with herself when she had thought it up. The bearer of that name looked toward the case that held a first edition of Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities. A gift for his late mother, bought on her birthday a few years ago. He glanced back to the diagram of a falcon in flight, spread out in a book before him.<p>

For some reason, it wouldn't hold his interest. Instead he stalked up the stairs and over to a window, looking out over the rest of his property. The massive curved top of his aviary dominated farther out, placed in its own artfully designed forest. But closer up his eye was drawn to the two maids beating rugs. The blonde one swung with a skill that spoke of some years playing softball, the other going for more of an overhand blow.

Finding new servants had been hard, Bryant had more than informed him of that. Ah, for the days when the Gotham Household Institute was still up and running. Hundreds of maids and footmen, all trained and ready for hire. Now though, nobody wanted to go into service and the staff that he once had had been reduced considerably. Most of them left when the fortune ran out, a few came back when he improved it but then they took a moral stand and left when it was known he was in crime. So now he had Bryant, who had worked for the family that had bought the mansion when it was seized. He was of the older stock, and approved of Oswald's efforts to restore the mansion to its former glory. Ms. Hunt was the former cook at the Iceberg Lounge who had threatened to quit when one of his boys decided to get a little handsy.

He'd presented her with his hands and the offer to come be his private cook.

Travis was actually one of his boys, as good with a car as he was with a Kalashnikov. But the two new maids were something else. According to Bryant, they'd been the only two applicants. And Travis said that they had no idea who they'd be working for until they pulled up to the gate. But the house was cleaner than it had been before he'd left for his brief tenure in Blackgate. His clothes were out each morning, and cleared away at night.

He figured he'd keep them around until something scared them off. It'd be hell to find replacements though, from what Bryant had said they didn't complain a whole lot and actually seemed rather grateful to be out of the little hovel Travis had found them in. He stayed quiet as the door below him opened, both of them managing a rug under each arm. The clean rugs were quickly spread out, but the blonde one paused at the desk he'd been at.

_Kirilovna, that was her name._

She seemed entranced by the diagram, which showed the air currents that would swirl around a falcon in flight. Her head cocked to the side, fingers tracing the current lines in the air above the book. As quickly as it had drawn her attention, she stepped back and walked out. The door closed behind her, leaving Oswald Cobblepot to consider his new maids and new schemes.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks later, Mr. Bryant twisted his ankle coming down the stairs sending a flurry of silverware raining down. Ms. Hunt ran to grab the silverware, Carissa the poor butler. he couldn't put any pressure on it, using Carissa to support himself. Thank God it was after Sir's dinner, Mr. Bryant had taken him up to bed a little while ago. As Ms. Hunt brooded over his poor ankle Carissa ran to the laundry room. Galina was folding a pair of pants, adjusting them so they hung just so on the hanger. Carissa burst in, everything pouring out. "Bryant hurt his ankle, he can't even walk."

Galina shifted the hanger over. "Will he be better by tomorrow?"

"I'm not a nurse. Come on though, he's sure to pitch a fit if neither of show up." Carissa said. Galina followed her through the maze of storerooms and workrooms that made up the downstairs of Cobblepot Manor. The scene in the kitchen was not good. Mr. Bryant was hissing every time the cook came forward with a bag of ice.

He looked up as they walked in. "Damn it all. Damn, damn, damn."

"I'm sure you'll be alright." Galina tried to sound supportive, but his ankle was swollen pretty badly.

"I'll be lucky if I'm not out all week. Now, you two are going to have to take over my duties for the next few days. Galina, take up tea for Sir each morning and wake him. Help him dress, bring him his hat and shoes. Be by his side in case he needs something. Carissa, you'll have to serve his meals. Serve from the left, take from the right."

If there was anything to make a person so nervous they'd be amazed they got sleep that night, it was the pronouncement that they'd be taking care of one of Gotham's Rouges for the next few days. So Carissa shivered under her covers and Galina did what she always did when she was stressed.

She embroidered.

Sitting against the wall, shoved under a table, was a huge pile of embroidered and cross stitched fabric. Some were to be hung up later, others to create pillows or quilts. The pile itself was a testament to how much she worried. Her fingers pained her by the time she woke the next morning, along with everything else. She had fallen asleep against the wall. Galina got up, stretched, and made sure to dress extra carefully. First she went to the kitchen, where a harried looking Carissa gave her a tray with a tea service and some breakfast on it.

It felt a little strange going into Sir's sitting room instead of his wardrobe. From what she'd managed to glean from an increasingly grumpy head butler, she needed to place the tray on the table, then go gently wake Sir. Galina opened the door, unsure of what she would find. Mr. Bryant never let them in it, he cleaned it himself. What she could make out through the darkness impressed her. The furniture was dark, carved and gilded on the edges. From the barest line of light that made it through the thick drapes she could see everything was upholstered in a rich dark red.

His figure seemed even smaller in the massive bed, curled on his side. Reaching out, she gently shook what looked like a shoulder. "Sir, it's seven. Time to get up."

He moved faster than she had anticipated, gripping her wrist hard enough to make her gasp. He was still rather groggy, but his glare wasn't. "Where's Bryant?"

"He hurt himself last night, he asked me to take over his duties for today." She tried her best to keep her voice calm, but she could feel the quiver in it. He released her hand, and she used the movement to hand him his robe to hide the shaking. He stood, shuffled into his slippers and went out to the sitting room, presumably to eat. Galina made the bed, thinking. _He won't kill you, he needs you. His social skills may need a little work, but he won't sacrifice a servant because of an accident. Hopefully._

Reassured, she set out a suit behind the changing screen of the wardrobe. According to Bryant, he would dress himself but she was expected to bring him a set of cufflinks, a monocle, a hat and an umbrella before she brushed off the shoulders of his jacket. The thing that scared her most was the umbrella. She and Carissa had been studiously avoiding the many umbrellas that were strewn around the manor. One wrong touch, and who knows. Nerve gas, flamethrower, a nice little impalement on a knife tip.

So far they'd made up a few rules for the house:

1) Never touch the umbrellas

2) Only call him Mr. Bryant

3) Avoid eye contact with Sir

4) Be nice to Ms. Hunt, it will net you a good meal

They'd served pretty well, but Galina kept glancing over at the door. She needn't have worried, the bed was quickly made and any other clutter put away by the time Sir came back through the room and went into the wardrobe. She followed him, eyes firmly on the floor until he stepped out from behind the screen. From there she brought out a tray of cufflinks, returning it when he had selected a pair. She had just knelt down to fix them onto his sleeve when he spoke. "Kirilovna, that's a Russian name if I've ever heard one. Immigrant or family?"

Suddenly it became a lot harder to negotiate his cuffs. "My father, he met my mother on her study abroad semester and followed her back." There, one was done.

"And so you became Susan Kirilovna. Or Rebecca. Something incongruous I bet."

"Galina, actually." The other link clicked close. She turned to fetch his hat. It was a nice affair, all silk and tall. He handled it with practice, setting it at just the right angle on his head. The monocle went on easily, clipping to his collar. Finally when she turned to the umbrella stand, she hesitated.

"The green one, with the silver handle. Watch the handle, the blade has a tendency to slide out." Sir told her, consulting the large mirror in the middle of the room.

It only took her a minute to bring it to him, but it felt like an eternity. He preened a little in front of the mirror, ever inch the robber baron he fancied himself. Galina stood to the side, watching him. He looked, well, he looked good. Well put together, but anachronistic. A piece from the old age, something that should have been thrown out but kept coming back up. His eyes caught hers in the mirror, something flashing through them. Head head quickly dropped. "Do you require anything else, Sir?"

"Go pull down the works of Tolstoy from the library. I will read until lunch." He replied, smirking a little. "Have you read him?"

"My father read me Tolstoy every night." Galina turned and left. The works of Tolstoy took up an entire shelf in the library. All leather-bound, gilt lettered, and she was fairly sure one of the books under the display glass was an actual first edition of _War and Peace_, in Russian at that. She refused to question if he stole it or bought it. A first edition of that doorstopper was no place for her to start putting on infallible airs. So she took the books down, lining them just so on the desk. Sir came down, picked up _Anna Karenina_, and ordered her to put the rest away._  
><em>

Sometimes he could be an asshole.

* * *

><p>Oswald chuckled to himself as Galina collected the heavy volumes, taking them back up to the second floor shelf they were on. He was expecting a grumble, some kind of biting remark, but she merely nodded. There may have been a sigh from the upper floor, but it could have easily been the wind.<p> 


End file.
